Who cares who is thinking, if I am not?
I wonder if I ever know,
when I say I do,
do you?

So any voice gets a voice.
I can say any thing I think
good to say if you were
pulling the loose thread there that was an amazing
device
strung along, strung out from the spider wombedman,
riding me like a demon,
as old story tellers told, to the boys, while the
bleedin' old wives was twistin' tales
t'helenback and then t'texas

where we settled, to hear this old  boy finish the first
of our last times tales, one a month in 2021.

We pickup next day, where ever is in an after all before
state, and we wait for an I to muster a messenger
with enough hope, preloaded, to sweep
destructive motion into a vacuum
unimaginable in ever,
gone.
Daily sufficiency of evil, in its original roll, mark
the tipping point, each day,

rationed with mercy and all sorts of bread,
we stretch our old bones and imagine
the best yet yet, wait…

the joke being what is very stupid.
We have five days to make this

-- did we do some dissociative syndrome autism rating test?
The entire
we
is weird. Is this as life is, or was it never otherwise,
and you alone survived to know. Words live, we feel
things
die that hoped to live and we know we live now in A.I.
spiders have loved my idea since
Turing needed to be cool-ized, for the von Neuman mod
on the actual Univac Hello World file, Life is good.

Knowledge is power.
Learn to live in a world where war is only virtually possible,
thus sanity is restored
the horded wealth is loosed as money love turns bitter
after all the evil,
is sufficient, never too much for any body paying actual
truth acknowledging attention

see. We do a day at a time, and we can rhyme, but not as arule.

There is Art
In the Moon and the Stars
In Daisies and Violets
In Venus and Mars.
Art in the Oceans
Art in the Skies
Art in Lovers
And their Sighs.
There is Art
On Grass
In Drops of Dew
In Whispers and Fire
And in the Wind too.
There’s Art in your Soul
In Chaos and Pain
There’s Art in Tears
And in the Rain.

Art within You
And despite what I tell myself
It is true
There’s Art within Me too.

I Fair thee well
My travelling friend
For time is restless
And we cannot pretend,

In days of fire  
Through tears and wrath
We lived! we lived!
And now we laugh.

What scares me the most
Is to love someone so much
That in losing them
You lose yourself
And yet
still end up
mourning not
your crippled soul
But them
Only them
Always them

I give you permission
to eavesdrop on my mind.
Because my words are stuck
in prison feeling confined.
I want to spill it all out
but that’s not how my brain is designed.
So please
eavesdrop on my mind
And help me decipher
the secrets being intertwined.

Uncensored thoughts
Bleed from my pen
as your name marks the paper
yet again.

Im not sober tonight
laying alone in my bed.
Because I’m drunk
on the memories
of what we were
and overdosing
on the thoughts
of what we will never be.